


Stories of the Second Self: Wild Ride

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [22]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Change was coming to Cincinnati. Frankie knew it, because driving a cab gave him a broad, penetrating, and subtle view of the city few others had. Then Frankie gets a fair who he clearly sees as a major financial player that devastated the lives of many. It was time to show this fair the effects.
Series: Alter Idem [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813
Kudos: 1





	Stories of the Second Self: Wild Ride

It was around four, thirty when Frankie heard his rear door open and the cab tilt when the business-suited gentleman climbed in, while he said, "I see your light's on, so don't tell you're on break."

"Where to, pal?" Frankie asked with his usual street vernacular, looking into his rear view mirror.

The man gave his address, which Frankie knew was up in the ritzy part of town where even gated community residents couldn't afford to live. Frankie turned on the meter and pulled into traffic. After, he turned on his radio.

"None of that, thank you," the man said without looking up from his phone.

"Not a music fan?" Frankie asked, and popped a strip of jerky in his mouth.

"And no chitchat," the man replied.

"Ah, that's fair," Frankie said, and waved his hand about, "Lots'a people ain't got much ‘ta say, so they fill it in with small talk."

"What part of that did you not understand?" the man said curtly.

"Important stuff ‘ta do, huh?" Frankie went on, heedless of the man's irritation. "Big fancy firm and all. I bet you bought a lot of small companies in your time, eh? Big ones too, by the look of your watch."

"Big enough, that I could easily have your cab company in my portfolio and have you canned," the man shot back, finally giving Frankie eye contact.

"Yeah, there it is." Frankie nodded with a squint. "That's the face I've seen only in reflection of hard working people stricken by it. The kind of people who lose their jobs when their employer gets bought out. I know by way of those lives you impacted."

"Seriously," the man huffed, "Do you charge extra for blabbing, or is that how you give discounts?"

"I guess you can't tell," Frankie said pointing to his neck, "Most people don't know yet. The game has changed. Sooner or later, it'll come ‘ta a head. But for now, you're livin' on easy street."

Next, the man looked out the window. "Hey, this isn't the usual route."

"Ehh, it's a shortcut," Frankie replied, and waved at his fair again. "You're used ‘ta shortcuts. Shortcut people's pay, shortcut their jobs. You don't care if it's overseas or automation, so long as it gets your quarterly bonus."

The man did finally look at Frankie's neck, "And what am I supposed to see?"

"Ehh, it's a new demographic," Frankie answered, "Five of them, ‘ta be precise. Mine tends ‘ta grow scalp hair around back half of our neck. It's beats eyebrows meetin’ in the middle, so I'll take it."

"Look, I don't care about your hygiene problems," the man's voice hardened, "Just get me to my house and I won't have your medallion suspend."

"Don't you worry pal," Frankie said with a nod, "You'll get home. But before that happens, I want ‘ta show you home for other people."

Frankie pulled over in front of a hospital, just in time for an ambulance to pull in front of the main entrance.

"Who lives in a hospital?" the man griped.

"For the next few hours or days, that guy right there," Frankie revealed with a tilt of his head toward the man being unloaded on a gurney.

"Why is this my problem?" the man demanded.

“I passed by him the other day, when he was leavin' work," Frankie explained, "It was his last day. His job got liquidated. It was a hardware store. You heard of it."

"Randy's Tools," the man recalled with flawless memory. "Yeah, we finalized the acquisition last fiscal quarter. It was under-performing."

"I've seen that man work," Frankie said, "He wasn't under-performing. I could tell from the look in his eye. His whole world was gone when he was put out of work. He had nothin' left ‘ta live for, so-- you get the idea. That's on you."

"I can't help if he choose a dead end job!" that riled up the businessman.

"Remember you said that, when the headlines start gettin’ weirder," Frankie advised calmly. "Everybody's replaceable, even you-- 'specially you."

"Is that a threat?" the man shot and reached for the door handle.

"Don't bother," Frankie dismissed the escape effort, "I control the locks. I promise you won't come ‘ta no harm, not on the outside anyway. How you feel inside? That's different."

"So you're the ghost of Christmas Present," the man retorted with a sneer. "What? Are we skipping the ghost of Christmas Past? It's not even the season."

“Yo, that's pretty funny," Frankie smirked with authentic amusement. "I gotta remember ‘ta use that some time. Okay, so that's not enough."

Pulling out of the hospital, Frankie next cruised by a semi-commercial lot where the doors were chained shut, but workers stood outside.

"It's a research lab," the businessman noted, "We didn't buy this."

“You lobbied the city council to shift property taxes from businesses like yours ‘ta places like this," Frankie explained, "And, when that wasn't enough ‘ta shut down research that would render obsolete one of your 'acquisitions', you got the city ‘ta throw on some zoning red tape."

"Whoa, wait a minute," the man said, seeming to have missed what Frankie said, staring at the crowd. "That guy there. He's like eight feet tall."

"And still growin'," Frankie added, giving the man time to digest that, before he continued, "You're lookin' at the brightest man who ever set foot in this cab. Three PhD's, two in fields I ain't never heard of before, and was on shortlist for the National Academy of Sciences. But that dream is dead. Along with his obvious problems," Frankie waved at the visibly large man, "he now can't even find another research grant."

"You can't lay that at my feet," the man protested, "My job is to make my firm money. To build their portfolio. We're not a goddamn charity."

"Yeah, I guessed that already," Frankie agreed, "But that's not what I'm gettin' at. I got one more place ‘ta show 'ya. This one's gonna sink in'ta your soul."

Frankie made his way down to the Norwood district of Cincinnati. With each turn at intersections, houses became more rundown and streets dustier and increasingly cracked. The sun was setting by the time Frankie pulled up to an empty park, only Frankie knew it wouldn't be empty for long.

"Okay, so I told 'ya my people's different 'an yours, right?" Frankie reminded.

"Yeah, so what?" the man heatedly replied, "I only care about getting to my home, where MY people live!"

"Just hold on," Frankie said, raising his hands to calm the man down, and then looked out onto the field with sparse trees. "Ah, here we go."

"You're all dog lovers," the man remarked, visibly unimpressed. "Great."

"Dogs eh?" Frankie said, and laughed, "How many dogs you know do that?"

The lupine forms that ran out into the field stood upright. The people Frankie could see, also stripped down and started to change. Fur sprouted, tails grew, limb proportions shifted, and faces elongated.

"Get the picture?" Frankie waved at the businessman.

"What the hell is this?" the man asked, his face ashen. "No, this is fake. It has to be. You pulled this to scare me. Well, prank's over."

"This ain't not prank," Frankie said, noticing the other werewolves sniffing in his direction. "Yeah, now they know we're here."

"Shit!" the man panicked and pulled desperately at the door.

"You don't want ‘ta do that," Frankie warned casually, "Not that you could. These people know who screwed up their hood. Diverted city budget from schools, roads, city hospitals, even libraries. They might get upset wit'cha. It's for your own good you stay inside."

Some werewolves trotted on all fours, others while upright, but all were turned to their therianthropic selves. Surrounding the car, they sniffed at the cracks of the windows.

"Jesus!" the man gulped, his eyes wetting, as he looked side to side.

"The world's already turned upside down," Frankie said, his own skin tone graying and wolf features emerging, but then that reversed and he looked human again. "When things fall apart, and they will, believe you me, nothin' will stop desperate people from comin' ‘ta your part of town. They ain't gonna do it 'cause of hate. They's comin' because it's where they can find what they need ‘ta survive."

"Are they going to eat us?" the man whimpered.

"Nah," Frankie winced at that and waved him down, "We's don't do that. Wolves ain't in'ta eatin' people," Frankie then pointed at himself, "so my's people ain't in'ta eatin' people. Play your cards right, and you's got no trouble from this part of town."

The man turned desperately to Frankie, but couldn’t say anything.

To the unvoiced fear, Frankie held his hands up as if to surrender, "Screw this up, an' there's no tellin' what's gonna happen. Cincinnati's gonna have 'ta be like its own country."

"How do you know all this?" the man asked, tears streaking his face.

"We're howlers, baby," Frankie spread his hands out. "It's what we do. We know things about people before they know it themselves. I can read you like yesterday's paper."

The other werewolves moved far enough back that Frankie could look them in the eye. A couple nodded to him, and he waved back.

"Can we please go now?" the man now remembered what polite was.

"Yeah, we're goin' pal," Frankie answered, and shifted gears. "You seen what you need ‘ta see."


End file.
